


Sweet Dreams

by fushicho118



Category: Pandora Hearts
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, Language of Flowers, M/M, but i got carried away lol, i intended for this to be much shorter, something soft and sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:34:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25789651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fushicho118/pseuds/fushicho118
Summary: It's the day before Elliot's 16th birthday, but he's in no mood to celebrate due to the dismal events of the past few months, as well as sleep deprivation due to his nightmares. How does Leo lift his spirits and help him sleep? By filling his room with flowers.
Relationships: Leo Baskerville/Elliot Nightray
Comments: 12
Kudos: 39





	Sweet Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> wahoo this is my first time posting my writing so i hope it's alright :) i spent all week trying to grind this out, and there are parts that i think could definitely be improved, so maybe i will come back to this and revise it after taking a break from it for a while. 
> 
> happy birthday Elliot ~

The carriage carrying the flowers, to Leo’s relief, arrived at precisely the time he had instructed: ten past four—when Elliot was sufficiently occupied with his fencing lesson. Any earlier, and Elliot would have spotted them on the way to the courtyard; any later and Leo would not have had time to transfer and arrange them before the lesson was over.

Leo did feel a bit ridiculous, admittedly, as he made several trips through the great manor, carrying armfuls of flowers stacked up to his chin. He definitely noticed the curious looks he received from other servants in passing, but luckily, none questioned him. They could assume, as he neared Elliot’s bedroom, that the flowers were being delivered by the young master’s request.

Carrying what was finally the last bunch of flowers, Leo pushed the doors to Elliot’s room open with his shoulder and entered. The room was vast, as was every other part of the mansion, and Leo felt as though he traversed oceans before he could finally set down the last of the flowers. Once they were safely on the coffee table, organized by type, Leo stretched his arms with a groan. He could finally rest, but not for long. He looked at the pile of flowers on the table, then turned and swept his gaze around the room, reminding himself of the arrangement he’d planned out earlier. He glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room.

_Alright. I should have plenty of time to finish this._

He spent the next hour and a half decorating the room with the flowers, leaving no surface without a vase and no shelf unlined with blossoms. He pinned sprigs to the curtains, threaded stems anywhere they would fit, scattered stray petals over the bedding… At some point in the middle, he was beginning to feel quite hot with the exertion and overwhelmed with the countless mingling scents, so he threw open the windows to let in the breeze before resuming. And when he was finally pleased with his work, he gave the room one last look-over, a satisfied smile spreading across his lips.

_Perfect._

Now to regroup with Elliot in the courtyard. Looking once again at the time, Elliot’s lesson should’ve been just about finished, so Leo made his way quickly through corridors and down flights of stairs. Somewhere along the journey, the ridiculousness of his scheme began to assert itself in his mind.

A roomful of flowers for his master.

 _Ah,_ he scoffed at himself, his smile turning wry. _How pompous of me._

Nonetheless, anticipation churned in his chest to see Elliot’s reaction to the surprise awaiting him.

The August sun blazed brightly outside the manor, even as the evening began to fall upon the sky. Leo found his master sitting at the courtyard’s edge, sheltered by a shadow cast by the main house’s wall. With a skip in his step, he joined the other boy.

“Oh, there you are,” Elliot acknowledged him as he approached, and gestured for him to sit down. “You’re later than usual.”

“I got caught up in something,” was Leo’s brief explanation as he folded down to sit beside him. He asked, “How did the lesson go?”

“It could’ve been better.”

Leo tilted his head. “Oh?”

“I couldn’t focus,” Elliot said as he heaved a sigh. “I was super uncoordinated, and I kept hesitating with my sword.” His gaze drifted away from Leo’s, and Leo followed his eyes to the sheathed rapier that rested at their feet. It was the blade that Elliot often carried at his hip, as though anticipating an enemy to duel at every corner. Elliot’s father had entrusted it to him—it was the family heirloom, with its blade stained black and handle emblazoned with the Nightray coat of arms—and he carried it with ardent pride and honor.

“I just really need to get more sleep,” Elliot continued. “I could pass out right here on the concrete.” As if to emphasize his point, he brought his hand up before his mouth and cracked a deep yawn. Leo hummed a note to show that he understood.

He knew of the recurring nightmare that had been hindering Elliot’s sleep since the beginning of the summer. Every few nights or so, it jolted him awake in a cold sweat and left him restlessly paranoid for the remainder of the night. Some mornings, when Leo entered Elliot’s room to wake him and prepare him for the day ahead, he would find his master already wide awake after having barely slept for fear of seeing the same nightmare again. And by the way Elliot had once described it to him, with his voice panic-stricken and tears of distress spilling forth, choking out how every time he saw it, it felt more and more real… Leo couldn’t blame him for his fear.

“Well, your schedule is all clear tomorrow, so I’ll let you rest into midday,” Leo offered. “And I can have your breakfast delivered to your room.”

“Yeah, that would be nice.” Elliot leaned his head back against the wall and looked out at the courtyard. “I have nothing better to do tomorrow.”

The next day would be Elliot’s sixteenth birthday, granting him freedom from all lessons and duties. Ordinarily, the house would have held a grand celebration for him, but this year, they had to be on high alert, so as not to put any of their family members at risk of assassination.

The Headhunter. So was the title given to the killer who had been targeting the Nightray family for months. In a matter of just a few months, they had claimed the lives of the dukedom’s three eldest heirs, the Duchess’s brother, and several guests attending a party hosted on a separate Nightray property. In response to these incidents, the Duke increased security around the estate, cancelled any social gatherings that would have taken place on any properties belonging to the Nightray family, and placed firm restrictions on the family’s freedom to appear in public. It had been, to put it simply, a horrible, dispiriting summer for the Nightray house.

In the absence of what would have been his birthday festivities, Elliot was granted access to a carriage and permitted to spend the day as he pleased, but not without constant surveillance by several guards, of course. Even today, a day quiet and mundane as any, Leo had noticed a smattering of guards shadowing Elliot, keeping a watchful eye on him from a distance. Elliot was not keen on the idea of being monitored like a child—he’d overtly expressed so to Leo behind closed doors—but even so, he understood the severity of the circumstances, and did not voice his annoyance to anyone else.

The two boys sat together for a while longer, listening to the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze, watching the shadows grow longer as the sun took an angled position in the sky, simply enjoying each other’s quiet company. Leo glanced at Elliot, who had pulled his rapier into his lap and was staring at it absently. Fingers tracing the engravings on the hilt, he was lost in thought, as he often was as of late. Leo hoped he wasn’t brooding over the events of the past few months, but by the melancholy look in Elliot’s eyes, fixed on the insignia that represented his family, he knew that his hopes were unlikely to be realized.

It was strange, Leo thought, to see Elliot like this, the way he’d changed after his nightmares began, and the yet more profound way he’d changed after the Headhunter attacks. He was much more subdued these days, much more sensitive and introspective, the antithesis of his usual obstinate self. It was Elliot’s way of coping with it all, Leo supposed, but all the same, he hated it—hated to see this boy, who he’d come to know as being dynamic, haughty and brash, shifting into this version of himself that was so… so burnt out. So _exhausted_. Especially on the eve of his birthday, a day he was wont to monopolize, making himself the center of attention and flaunting his own ego.

Leo didn’t need Elliot to be happy; he knew that would be a tall order under the current circumstances. All he wanted was for Elliot’s mind to be drawn away from his troubles, if only for a short while.

Gently, he reached his hand over and prodded at Elliot’s arm, stirring him from his thoughts. He watched Elliot’s despondent expression dissipate, and kept his gaze steady when Elliot turned his head to meet his eyes.

“We should go back in soon. It’s almost time for supper.”

\--

Elliot had decided to retire immediately after finishing his meal. The Duke and Duchess were surprised, but understanding, and dismissed him as he wished.

As Leo followed his master through the manor, he thought about the surprise waiting behind the doors to his room—actually, he’d been thinking about it since he set it up. All evening the notion marinated in the back of his mind of Elliot being surrounded by the flowers, and his spirits being lifted. Leo knew this wasn’t realistic, and he wasn’t really one to get his hopes up, but… it would be nice, he thought, if this image became a reality.

When they reached Elliot’s room, Leo closely watched the other boy’s face as he reached for the handle, pulled the door open, and was greeted by the scene on the other side.

“Oh, what the heck?”

The expression that befell Elliot’s features was a mix of surprise, confusion and awe. Leo didn’t take this as an inherently bad sign.

“This is for you,” he said, but the words came out more quietly, coyly, than intended.

“Did you do this?”

“Yup, yup.”

“What for? For my birthday?”

“Hmm, sorta.” Leo took a moment to think about how to phrase his explanation. “The idea just popped into my head, because you’ve been having trouble sleeping lately, and I know you like the language of flowers, so I thought I’d look up which ones symbolize good sleep and order them for you. To chase away your nightmares, or something.”

“Ohh.” Elliot nodded as though something clicked in his brain. Though the rest of his face remained fairly neutral, his eyes lit up with interest. “That’s… so over the top for you.”

Elliot’s reaction was muted. It lacked the theatricality that was so characteristic of him, but still, he wore a soft smile as he walked deeper into the room, and Leo decided he could be pleased with that much.

He followed behind his master, adjusted his glasses, and said in a tone controlled to be nonchalant, almost indifferent, “Well one of us has to be all disgusting and gaudy, and you haven’t been doing your part lately, so I stepped in to keep the balance.”

Elliot snorted at the snide remark, but was not provoked by it. He just continued to browse the room, eyes bright and curious.

“This is pretty amazing,” he said as he examined the flowers that were peppered here and there. “The decoration, the coordinated symbolism and everything. I’d never expect something like this out of you.”

Leo couldn’t help but pat himself on the back for doing his research. His small smile never fading, he watched Elliot roam the room, and recalled the meanings of the flowers as Elliot passed them.

_Closed gentian: Sweet be thy dreams._

_Chrysanthemum: Cheerfulness, rest and well-wishing._

_Purple anemone: Protection against evil._

_Lavender…_

He was roused by the mix of expressions that flickered across Elliot’s face as he considered the vase on the nightstand, and the sprigs it contained. One after the other, his countenance jumped from endearment to fondness, to dawning realization, and then… diffidence? Before finally fading into something much more vague. Something unsure, conflicted, maybe, yet still modestly pleased. Leo wondered what exactly went through Elliot’s head in those moments.

“I put those there because the scent is supposed to promote sleep,” he bluffed as he sauntered up beside Elliot. He reached to grab the edge of the taller boy’s cardigan, giving it a firm tug that suggested, _“give it to me.”_

“Ah.” There was a reluctance to the slow nod Elliot gave in response to the explanation. As he slid the cardigan off his shoulders, he muttered, almost to himself, “I guess that makes sense.” He only looked mildly enlightened. Leo cocked an eyebrow and hummed a quizzical note.

“What, are you analyzing each and every flower? You’re so corny,” he teased, eliciting a snort from Elliot.

“Shut up, you got these for me expecting me to analyze them. And anyways, doing all this,” the light fabric in his hands swayed with the movement of him gesturing around the room, “as a birthday present in the first place was a pretty corny move on your part.” He pushed the cardigan out towards Leo. In one smooth motion, Leo took the garment and folded it in his arms as Elliot hoisted himself onto the edge of the bed. When Leo began to turn in the direction of the wardrobe, he paused before Elliot left his peripheral vision and gave him a sidelong look.

“This isn’t your present,” he felt the need to clarify. “It’s just an idea I had.” He savored the brief glimpse he caught of Elliot’s bemused face before he headed for the wardrobe.

“What, so this isn’t even all of it?” Elliot’s voice was tinged with awe.

The corners of Leo’s mouth tightened into the faintest smirk at the question. Before giving his reply, he pulled a drawer open and laid the cardigan neatly inside. When he jerked the doors of the wardrobe open, a small spray of flowers that was attached there fell to the ground, but he paid it no mind and started rummaging through the hanging clothes to find a nightshirt.

“Don’t even consider the flowers as part of your present,” he shot over his shoulder. “Your actual present is a lot better.” He was raised to the tips of his toes, one hand braced against the frame of the wardrobe, as he stretched up to reach the hanger he wanted. Once it was in his possession and his heels were back on the floor, he turned back to Elliot and added, “In my opinion, at least.”

Elliot’s brows knitted together. “You’re insane. You don’t have to do all this for me.”

“I’m just happy if you like it.” He said this softly, sincerely, as he returned to the side of the bed. Then, in a voice more chipper, said, “Now let’s get you changed; I want you to sleep well so I don’t have to keep dealing with you being all grouchy.”

Elliot rolled his eyes.

“You sound like my mother,” he grumbled. Nevertheless, he obediently swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

“I might as well be,” Leo said as he laid the nightshirt out beside Elliot. He then knelt down to begin untying Elliot’s shoes and, in a casual voice said, “Maybe tonight I’ll tuck you in, read you a bedtime story and kiss you goodnight.”

“Like hell you will.”

Leo just snickered, completely unaffected by the scowl he was receiving. “I’ll even sit with you until you fall asleep.” He brought a thoughtful hand up to his chin and pretended to consider it, and went on in a cheery voice that he knew would grind Elliot’s gears, “You know, to make sure the monsters under the bed don’t hurt you.”

Elliot huffed. He should have been used to Leo’s teasing by now. He really should have. And yet, even after two years of knowing him, Elliot still reacted with chagrin to Leo’s goading. “I don’t need you to coddle me like a child.”

“I already coddle you like a child,” Leo retorted sharply. “Look at me; I’m taking your damn shoes off for you.” He punctuated his point with a sharp tug at the second shoelace, unraveling the bow in an instant. As he removed the two shoes, he couldn’t help but crack a smile at the indignant snort that sounded from Elliot thereafter, and in an offhand voice that was light with amusement, he shot one last blow to Elliot’s pride: “A life in the noble class is one of being constantly babied.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“If that bothers you so much then you should have thought about it before you chose me to be your valet,” Leo’s voice lilted. He flashed Elliot a look over his glasses, a smile that was equal parts lighthearted and smug, before straightening up and taking the shoes away. He could practically feel the presence of Elliot’s incredulous look as he returned them to the wardrobe, and he chuckled to himself.

Now this was the kind of banter he missed.

He waited by the wardrobe as Elliot changed clothes, listening to the sound of shifting fabric that mingled with the hum of the gentle breeze coming through the windows. As he waited, he noticed the little stem that had fallen to the floor earlier, and bent down to pick it up.

Elliot had been right when he said that the display of flowers was unusually over the top for Leo. Leo wasn’t exactly one to throw around his sentiments and exhibit his thoughts and feelings for all to see—not like Elliot was, anyway. Implicity was more his style, usually expressed in the form of deliberate, calculated maneuvers masked behind a casual manner. Elliot was generally adept at reading his nuances, being much more shrewd than he let on, so Leo wondered if, even tonight, Elliot was able to look through the superficial meanings of the flowers to see the true feelings hiding behind them.

He twirled the stem between his fingers.

_Yarrow: Healing and protection._

An expression of his wish for Elliot to heal from his trauma, and to protect him from suffering any longer. Leo hoped that these intentions were recognized by Elliot, even if only vaguely.

At the sound of Elliot pulling the nightshirt down over his head, Leo carefully reattached the sprig to the wardrobe and returned to the bed to collect the clothes that Elliot had removed. He noticed Elliot eyeing the lavender on the nightstand dubiously, looking as though he was still unsure of its place in all this, and inspiration struck him to do something bold. The perfect opportunity was presenting itself to reveal their significance, but not without some more light mischief, of course.

“So what _is_ the meaning behind lavender?” he asked innocently, as though he didn’t already know, hadn’t already deeply researched it beforehand, didn’t deliberately include lavender in the mix _because_ of its meaning. He could already see the scenario play out in his head: Elliot would say the meaning, Leo would scoff and make some remark about it being repulsively mawkish, Elliot would get defensive over it, Leo would laugh and say that perhaps it fit in with the other flowers’ theme, Elliot would get flustered about it, and mission accomplished. However, Elliot didn’t respond right away, taking several moments to contemplate before speaking.

“Ah, they symbolize stuff like…” He paused, thinking for a moment longer. Leo awaited his answer expectantly. Finally, he said, “purity, serenity and silence. Stuff like that.”

Leo cocked an eyebrow. Yes, those were some of the meanings it could hold, but not the one he had in mind. It couldn’t be that Elliot didn’t know the other meaning, right? He had to know; it was so generic, and for a plant so common. Leo saw it over and over again in the reference books kept in the manor’s library—the books he’d gotten this whole idea from in the first place. To Leo, it was the meaning most applicable for the given context, the one most obviously appropriate, but maybe… maybe Elliot wasn’t seeing it after all.

Leo drew a breath to speak, but for his better judgment, he bit back whatever comment would have come out. Instead, he just said, “I see,” and decided to leave it at that.

The sun was beginning to fall behind the horizon, and gradually the room was washed in its golden light. As the room grew dimmer, Leo lit a candelabrum to bring to the nightstand while he worked on hanging Elliot’s clothes.

“Hey, by the way,” Elliot began, breaking the calm silence that had settled between them.

“Yes?”

Again, Elliot paused for a while before speaking, which made Leo raise an eyebrow. Eventually, he uttered, “Have I been making you… I mean,” he shook his head, backtracked, and rephrased his query. “Have you been worrying about me lately?”

Leo’s hands stumbled on the hanger for a split second. He didn’t let it show on his face, but the question threw him off guard. He wasn’t expecting the directness of it, the bluntness—not to mention the intrusiveness. Elliot knew that Leo wasn’t as forthcoming with his feelings as himself; he _knew_ this, and yet he still had the audacity to ask such a thing…

For a moment, Leo intended to respond with some snide comment, but he couldn’t think of anything quickly enough, and he ended up saying nothing. His face twisted into a wry look in spite of himself. It took everything in him to push the feeling down and resume his work as naturally as possible, but despite his effort, his heart began to lurch in his chest, as though he’d been caught red-handed.

He knew what his answer was, but some external force was preventing him from saying it aloud. His lips were sealed tightly shut beyond his control, and he could not get the words out no matter how sorely he wished to.

Had he been worrying about Elliot lately?

_Of course I have._

He spent hours every day with Elliot. He bore witness to everything—the way Elliot spaced out more and more frequently with each passing day, the way he sometimes grew dizzy with weariness, the way he’d nod off in the parlor, only to be jarred awake by another nightmare. The way each nightmare left him breathless and on-edge for several minutes after.

He saw the way he checked his surroundings periodically, wary of potential intruders on the estate.

The way his expression sank whenever he passed his brothers’ portraits in the halls.

The way his tension eased just the slightest bit whenever he caught so much as a distant glimpse of his remaining family members, as though the mere sight of them standing there, alive, brought him relief.

_How could I not be worried?_

It wasn’t as though Leo was trying to hide his feelings—in fact, it was quite the opposite. He _wanted_ Elliot to know that he worried. He wanted Elliot to just know that—that he _cared_. But Leo was never too good with emotional intimacy. Placing so much trust in somebody, laying his soul so blatantly bare to them, in a setting so private… He felt it was unnatural. Unnerving. _Sickening_ , even, to put himself in such a vulnerable position.

Yes, this trait served him well as a means to protect himself in the past, but lately… Lately, he thought it to be a curse, that he could not open his heart so candidly the way Elliot could.

All of this flashed across his mind in the blink of an eye.

Leo did not speak. He simply finished hanging Elliot’s clothes, turned his back on the other boy, and made his way briskly to the door, all while maintaining his stony countenance.

A long stretch of silence.

As though sensing Leo’s answer, Elliot spoke across the room, “I’ll be okay. I’m still processing everything, but I’ll be back to normal soon. I don’t know how soon, but I will.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Leo responded nonchalantly as he pulled the door open a fraction. “I know how resilient you are.” He reached through the opening, left the hanger on the handle towards the corridor, and pushed the door shut once again. A maid would come by to collect the clothes to be laundered.

The task had given Leo just enough time to recover his composure. By the time he was walking back to where Elliot sat at the edge of the bed, he felt collected enough to look him in the eyes, but when he gave the other boy his usual mellow smile, it was met with a troubled look akin to the one he wore when he first regarded the vase of lavender.

“I hope you haven’t been stressing over me,” Elliot said. The words, though delivered steadily and without breaking eye contact, were tinctured with a humility that Leo was not used to hearing from him.

“I haven’t been,” was Leo’s simple reply. He spoke in a gentle tone that he hoped would help soothe Elliot’s concerns. “Don’t worry about me and just take your time organizing your own thoughts. You’ve been through a lot. I just want to see you start feeling better, that’s all.” As he reached for the candelabrum, he gave one more smile. “Good night.”

He paused when Elliot’s fingertips grazed his hand, urging him not to take it just yet. Turning his gaze to look at Elliot quizzically, he found the other’s intent eyes looking back at him.

“Stay here. I’m not done talking to you.”

“I really don’t mind at all-”

“No, no, I want to say thank you,” Elliot said, and grasped at Leo's wrist, making Leo hesitate. He gestured for Leo to sit beside him, and the smaller boy complied, albeit a bit timorously. His heart was beginning to beat a bit faster.

“You’re always looking out for me, and I notice that,” Elliot spoke, his countenance softening, and Leo had to tear his eyes away lest his composure abandon him again. “And I appreciate it a lot. I honestly don’t know how I’d get through everything if it wasn’t for you.”

“That’s so sappy. I hate it,” was all Leo could think to say on the spot, but his derision was belied by the reluctant smile that danced on his lips.

Like Leo, Elliot’s amused expression contradicted his tone of voice. “I figured you would since you think I’m so corny and disgusting.” He laughed dryly. When he caught Leo’s gaze again, the corners of his eyes crinkled with a warm smile, and he said, “Really though, thank you so much, Leo. I’m so glad to have a friend like you.”

His words struck Leo like an arrow hitting its target. In all their time of knowing each other, Leo never heard Elliot use that word to describe him before, and somehow… it gave him a delighted thrill. All of a sudden, Leo’s heart felt filled to the brim and, beyond his control, his smile expanded into a bright grin that he could not contain even if he wanted to.

_Yes, a friend._

Their relationship was beyond that of just master and servant.

They were friends.

“I’m just doing my job,” he mused, his voice twined in a buoyant, somewhat sheepish sort of laugh. “But…” He averted his face once more under the guise of adjusting his glasses, when really, he was just abashed. Though his voice was quiet, his smile could be heard clearly when he next spoke. “I’m glad too. That we’re friends.”

The words tasted sweet on his tongue.

His mind went blank when he felt one of Elliot’s hand at his jaw. Before he could register the touch, his head had been guided upward until the two of them were face-to-face. Elliot was gazing into his eyes, and Leo could feel his heartbeat rising in his chest as Elliot brought his other hand up to his face, fingers brushing aside an untamed lock of hair. Leo stared back at him. His heart continued to pound as though trying to burst out of his chest. For a moment longer they stayed like this, Elliot cradling Leo’s face, their eyes locked, until Leo watched Elliot’s gaze flicker down to his lips, and then back up again.

“Is it alright if I kiss you?” Elliot’s breath grazed Leo’s lips, setting them tingling. As though his body was acting of its own accord, Leo nodded, and before he knew it, the space between them was closed, and he was captured in a gentle kiss.

Elliot’s lips were soft and warm as they moved against his own, tenderly, affectionately, and Leo was rushed with a euphoria that seized him down to his toes and reduced him to a bundle of melting nerves. Arms finding their way around Elliot’s torso, he smiled clumsily into the kiss, letting Elliot’s warmth wash over him, enveloping him like the sea.

They parted after several seconds, two blushing, grinning, tittering messes. Elliot’s hand never left Leo’s face, his fingers tracing his jaw and his thumb caressing his cheek, and Leo leaned fondly into the touch.

“And you said you didn’t want a goodnight kiss,” he lilted, flashing Elliot a look. Elliot just gave an amused snort as he drew back, the tips of his fingers lingering at Leo’s skin for a beat longer before being pulled away.

“…Hang out with me a little longer,” Elliot eventually said.

Leo’s just tilted his head to one side, one eyebrow raised. Elliot began fumbling with the covers between his fingers and, before the silence could set in, he continued, “Like grab a book and sit over here, and just stay with me for a bit more. Until I fall asleep.” He tacked that last part on as if it was an afterthought.

It was a request that Leo didn’t expect and, on any other occasion, probably would have declined. Sure, he’d joked about it earlier, but it was just that—a joke. He enjoyed spending some time in seclusion before retiring every night. After putting Elliot to bed, he usually escaped to the manor’s deserted library for a while to read by the candlelight before returning to the servants’ quarters. But for just one night, he supposed, he could give up his treasured solitude and stay.

Just tonight.

And so, in a soft voice, he said, “Of course,” and smiled, a look which Elliot returned to him. As Elliot burrowed under the covers, Leo strode to the bookshelf and browsed its contents. He knew of the great discrepancy between their preferred genres, so he did not dawdle in choosing a book, instead just whichever one from the shelf that his hand was drawn to first.

He kicked off his shoes before climbing into the bed. After settling into a comfortable position, leaned back against the headboard, he briefly looked over Elliot’s form beside him. He was nestled under the covers, facing away from Leo, and his chest rose and fell with his calm breathing. Leo hoped that he would remain this tranquil throughout the night.

His eyes roved over the vase of lavender on the nightstand.

There was absolutely no way Elliot didn’t know the other meaning. He _had_ to have known, or else he wouldn’t have…

His heart began to flutter all over again again when he replayed the kiss in his mind. As the purple florets stared back at him, the words echoed in his head:

_Love and devotion._

With this notion pervading his mind, he turned his eyes to the book in his hands. The same small smile remained at his lips as he began to read.

Enveloped by the soft aroma that wafted from the flowers surrounding him, feeling sleepy and warm with Leo by his side, Elliot felt himself inching towards the border between wakefulness and sleep. As he drifted off, he vaguely felt the sensation of a kiss being placed softly on his forehead, and heard a voice speak softly to him, “Sweet dreams, Elliot.”

He couldn’t tell whether it was a real occurrence or a dream induced by his state of half-slumber.

\--

Elliot awoke the next morning after a night of long, peaceful sleep.

He glanced at the vase on his nightstand. Beside it, he spotted a stack of manuscript paper and a small, folded piece of parchment. His curiosity piqued, he reached over and took the papers into his hands. When he unfolded the parchment, there was a short note written in small, slanted letters that read:

 _“Happy 16th birthday, Elliot._  
_Let’s play this together sometime._  
_–Leo”_

Elliot looked at the sheet music. It was a piece for two people to play together on the piano, several pages long, all written out by hand. As soon as he glanced at the first line, he immediately recognized the melody. His heart skipped a beat.

It was a four-handed arrangement of Lacie.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading ~ i would appreciate any comments or feedback!


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